


Free

by sepia_sigyn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: About 25+ or so, But in a timeline 2012!Loki post-Tessaract-stealing created by sending you to Asgard, Dancer!Reader, F/M, He still likes mischief and chaos and wants to rule Asgard but he’s not 2012!Loki, Loki got therapy in this one, Minor content warnings for car accidents and dodgy consent around magical mind reading, No Smut, Older!Reader, Reader-Insert, Takes place around 2016, Veg!Reader, Yes mama he did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 16:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepia_sigyn/pseuds/sepia_sigyn
Summary: You are a young(ish) Midgardian woman who has somehow found herself selected as part of an elite group of potential partners for the princes of Asgard. After a series of three tasks that enable each lady to showcase her abilities in body, mind, and spirit, each of the two princes, Thor and Loki, will select one to begin courtship.You’re on lunch break one minute and being prepared for a grand alien ball the next.You decide to make the most of it, expecting some wild stories to tell your friends at most. But when you start to develop feelings for one of the princes, will you follow where they lead?





	1. Chapter 1

It’s Friday. Fucking _finally_. And for once, it’s actually fucking _sunny_ outside and you’ve decided to take a long lunch.

_Fuck it_, you think. Half the office was already away for a long summer weekend and you were ahead on your projects anyway.

You pop in your earpods and blast that tune that always gets you in the mood for the weekend. Nodding and smiling at your fellow office escapees, you make your way down to a city square where a street musician is playing and a couple of dudes who look like they might be attending a local Comicon (funny, you hadn’t heard of anything) stare at him in dismay. 

You plop down on the edge of the fountain and flip through your phone. Group texts from a couple friends planning a birthday party for tonight. You reply to let them know they’ve got your famous white bean dip on lock. You scroll through Twitter and like an insightful thread on the latest political mess happening in your country and scroll through Insta and like a couple posts that have inspired you to try some new ideas for your summer look.

Then you pull up the bookmark on the latest chapter of your current favorite fic. Smirking to yourself you sink into that feeling, if only for a little while. Like it’s the end of the day. Shoes off, feet up, exhale.

You’re free.

If only for a moment.

A new song blasts into your ears: 

_Up where the mountains meet the heavens above_  
_Out where the lightning splits the sea_  
_ I could swear there is someone somewhere watching me_  
  
_Through the wind and the chill and the rain_  
_ And the storm and the flood_  
_ I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood_

_Heroes and magic_, you sigh._ Of all the possibilities, how the fuck did I end up in _this_ boring ass universe?_

Thunder and what sounds like a pretty serious lightning strike roar in the distance, but you’re too distracted to notice. 

You’re so engrossed in your story that ten minutes fly by and you don’t even notice the commotion when the Comicon dudes apparently try their hand at immersive Shakespeare in the Park by accosting the musician for information on “where the young, eligible maidens of this fair city reside.”

_Oh!_ you just realize. _Half price veggie rolls at the Japanese grocery today. Fuck yes_, you think, gathering your things, dashing off the square, and swinging a right into the alley behind the shop.

You nearly smash face to breastplate (that’s what they’re called right?) into one of the Comicon dudes.

Not that you saw them follow you or anything. Um, _creepy_.

“Uh, excuse me?” you pop a pod out. “Watch where you’re going, my lieg-“

Your voice trails off as you gaze up…and up…and up a bit more to meet the snake-y glowing eyes of one snake-y looking nerdboy. Though this particular nerdboy must be one of those professionals because_ damn_ his look is on point. He did look oddly familiar…

“You’re on Insta, aren’t you? You’re one of those famous cosplayers?”

“Midgardians never fail to amaze me with their astounding gifts of perception,” the snake-y man grins, sarcasm dripping from his low, elegant vowels. 

“Midgar? Oh! I get it. You supposed to be that dude from Final Fantasy 7! Incredible, by the way. Your costume, I mean. Outstanding work, even without the hair color I get it… it’s like, it’s. Visceral,” you indicate an aura with your hands.

The last thing you remember before you slip out of consciousness is the curious tilt of snake-y nerdboy’s face and a bright blue cube glowing in his right hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**"**So…you’re telling me we’re on another planet…and that all these people are…gods?”

“Yes, my lady,” your personal attendant (still not used to it) Eira strains to conceal her mild annoyance at your persistent disbelief. “And these gods have invited you and several other ladies here for the ceremony.”

You blink your eyes, letting the information soak in for the eleventh time that evening. Nope, wasn’t making any more sense than it had the first ten times.

“But those gods...are imaginary. They were created by people of ancient cultures back on Ear- or Midgard as you call it?”

“Imaginary? I think not, my lady,” she snorts. “The great Aesir and Vanir of Asgard, imaginary!” she tuts.

You smile but think: _what the hell?_

Then you remember.

_Shit._

You think you know where this might be going. 

“So what is it that we have in store this evening?”

“We will begin with the first Encounter where each of you will be introduced to the princes.”

_Um._

“And there will be a feast and a grand ball.”

_Oh shit_, you think. _Oh shit oh shit if I’m really in one of these is this is my punishment for-_

“Sounds…well, sounds like fun, actually.” 

“Indeed. But you must be mindful, my lady, of making a good impression. Within a fortnight, each prince will make his Choice.” 

_Fuuuuuu-_

“Let me guess. They will choose one of us ‘fair maidens’ to make their blushing bride,” you snort. It’s been a minute since you’ve been anything resembling a “fair maiden.” 

“You know this custom from your own world, my lady?”

“You can say that,” you nod, thinking of at least five long-running reality shows with that exact same premise. “But…I have to just say it…aren’t I a little? Well…don’t they usually go for the whole innocent young girl thing, these ‘gods’?” 

Eira blinks, “I do not understand. Are you not?”

You laugh, “Am I not…am I…you think that I’m? Wait, how old do you think I am? Say so on the count of three. One…two…” 

You both say the same number.

“Exactly.” You cross your arms. 

“That’s quite young to us. Extremely young, in fact.” 

You snort. “Not on Midgard. Not for women at least.” 

“Well, my lady, here it is.” You meet Eira’s eyes, which are filled with compassion.

“If you are here, my lady…you are worthy of being chosen.” 

You are silent for a moment. 

You know where these things tend to lead. 

And you weren’t sure you were about that life. 

On paper, sure…I mean, hot alien boys, yes please. But in real life? 

Then you remember. That feeling when you read that fic. When you listened to that song. _Free_. Here is a chance to live out one of your wildest dreams and you were damn sure willing to play along a bit at least.

You straighten up and Eira bows her head in your direction, a knowing glint in her eye.

“We have little time, and I must prepare you for the feast. I will draw you a bath and prepare your gown.”

“Thank you, Eira.” You stare in her direction as she shuffles off.

\--

The Great Hall is one of the grandest places you’ve ever been. Your mind instantly drifts to the royal alien court in a sci fi film you saw last year. The sheer white dress you’re wearing reminds you of an avant-garde gown you once saw on display at an exhibit on a high fashion designer at a museum and your hair is teased up in a style to match. You are still baffled by the construction and how everything seems to be staying in place without boning or wiring. Eira told you that, with someone called Heimdall’s help, the royal designers had done their research on the most cutting edge Midgardian fashion of your time. You admit – you’re looking pretty damn good.

You file in with the group of fourteen other women, also exquisitely and immaculately dressed yet styled in a way you’d associate with ancient civilizations, as if the ladies illustrated in your high school Latin textbook had made their way to Paris Fashion Week. Most of them are young, but a few are older. There is even one woman who appears to be in her late 70s, elegant and refined as ever. You blink, admittedly a bit impressed by the princes’ open-mindedness….whoever they actually are. 

“Hello, I’m [ ], you whisper to a tall, patient-looking young blonde woman next to you. “I am Brigit,” she smiles, nodding in your direction. “You are from Midgard, I take it?”

You smile, proud of yourself for remembering their name for your home planet, “Yes, actually. How did you know?”

“Midgardians always have ‘the look’ about them when they enter the Great Hall,” she giggles. ”And you certainly have it.”

“How about you? Are you from, uh, here?” You make a mental note to become more familiar with the land, er, _planet _that is to be your home for the next couple days at the very least. 

She nods, “I grew up in a small village just outside the city. But me da was a musician for the courts so we attended many feasts here when I was a child. I am a singer myself,” she bows her head slightly to the side. 

“Wonderful. I hope we can hear you sing! I am a dancer,” you nod.

“I suppose we will both be making use of many of our talents quite soon,” her tone suddenly changes and her eyes lock to one corner of the room as a hush falls over it and the ladies fall into two lines, you stumbling back taking a place on the end of the first row.

The Queen, Frigga you’re told, enters first, a fierce and powerful looking woman even in her intricate evening attire. She glances over at the fifteen of you as you all curtsy in unison, you struggling a bit with the crystal heels that are higher than anything you’ve worn since your clubbing days. You think you see a slight eyebrow raise and warm smile in your direction as you raise your head, perhaps a bit of surprise at seeing the only Midgardian among the ladies. 

Next, the one they call Thor enters the room. He is massive. Like, a legitimately massive dude, but inviting rather than intimidating as he strolls towards the lines of curtsying ladies. You cannot help but lift your eyes a bit, drinking in his bountiful tanned biceps and intoxicating scent. It’s a combination of the earth on a rainy day and pure _man_ for lack of a better word. The hairs on the back of your arms raise ever so slightly.

“Welcome, my ladies,” he bows to you all, his voice a rippling baritone that fills the room with warmth and hospitality. “I look forward to getting to know each one of you,” his crystalline eyes meet your wide, inquisitive ones for a second and you detect something. A hint of sadness? 

He turns and stands beside his mother.

Then, as you ponder what it might have been that you saw in those sky blue eyes, another figure appears abruptly before you. It’s him. Snake-y nerdboy. Except around these parts he’s known as Loki. You draw your breath, taking a closer look. Tall, lean, and, in contrast to his brother, very pale with the blackest hair you’ve ever seen in person. 

This man. This so-called god of mischief, unsettles you. 

You curtsy with the rest of the ladies, unease growing in your stomach as you lift your eyes and meet his piercing emerald ones for a brief second. He squints back at you, silently berating you for daring to meet his princely gaze.

“Ladies,” his voice is low and soft, much softer than you expect, like fingertips barely grazing the nape of your neck. Grinning, his eyes are still impolitely fixed on you, taking in your every feature. And then you recognize where the feeling of unease is coming from. You fear him a bit, sure.

But you are also undeniably attracted to him.

By the time you realize this, his eyes have shifted to another of the maidens, a young, tall, slim red-haired woman who blushes slightly, struggling to stand still as he walks to join his family. 

You swallow and steal a side glance with Brigit, and both of you stifle a giggle. 

This is going to be a wild ride.


	3. Chapter 3

After a grand feast that offers a surprising number of plant-based options and a few welcoming words from Queen Frigga and each of the princes, it is time for the individual introductions. This is the first chance that each of you will have to interact with the princes without the prying eyes of an entire royal court or even Queen Frigga herself. A guardian accompanies each prince (there is some argument for a second guardian to follow Loki) for the ladies’ protection as they walk to individual tents that have been set on either side of the ballroom. A flaming blue urn appears and, one by one, each of your names is released. 

Brigit is called third. She rushes excitedly to Thor’s tent first as he is the elder of the two. Upon her return, you run to meet her.

“Well? What’s it like?” 

She blushes and chuckles, sticking out her tongue. “You know, Thor is so much funnier than I’d imagined? We’d never spoken properly before, even though he did recall my singing at a number of the feasts. And Loki…well, he just stared at me for two whole minutes without speaking and when he finally spoke he called me his brother’s wench. I told him he had some nerve to call me that so soon in the Tasks, and he told me he’d seen everything, then sat silently for another two minutes staring at me before I just left.”

“Wtf?” you swallow. If this is how they are treating their own what on earth would Loki say to a foreign mortal woman?

She shrugs. “He’s always been odd. Magic can muddle the mind if you are not careful.”

“Excuse me, magic?” you blink. The fuck was this, Harry Potter?

“Yes, be careful with him, he is a trickster.”

You nod. Trickster. It’s a concept you’re familiar with from your own culture but magic? What would he do to you? You remember the guardian and exhale slightly. But your mind also grazes upon the notion of what he might do if you were to meet with him alone. You swallow, a flush tinging your cheeks as you try and regain some semblance of composure.

The young red-haired girl is called tenth. She appears quite animated as she exits Thor’s tent but is fully flushed as she exits Loki’s. You see her chatting with a few other young girls at a far corner of the room, some whose eyes widen in admiration or surprise, others who smirk slightly.

The oldest of the ladies is called eleventh. She exits the tents as gracefully as she entered them, appearing satisfied with the meetings. “They each carry a bit of their father, I believe,” she discloses to another woman standing a few feet away from you and Brigit. “Either would make a formidable ally for our kingdom.” Your eyes widen and you grin. She must be of royal blood herself.

As the next two names are called, you grow nervous. You weren’t expecting to have to wait this long. 

At last you are called.

Fifteenth.

Brigit rubs your arm as you take a deep breath and stroll over to Thor’s tent. 

The tent is surprisingly warm and comfortable and after you curtsy and make pleasantries, Thor motions for you to take a seat on a cushy stool across from his mighty gilded chair.

“Ah, my lady [ ],” he nods. “I did not know that there would be a Midgardian amongst our ladies.”

You nod, “Are you familiar with…Midgard, my prin-…your royal…” you stumble on both the alien name for your home planet and on the appropriate manner of address. Then you remember all those royal documentaries you’ve watched. 

“Your highness.”

Thor nods in approval of your recovery. “Indeed. I knew someone once, a common mortal woman like yourself,” his oceanic eyes grow melancholy once again.

You think you understand now but you tread carefully. “Where is she…from?”

“She lives in…New Mexico? Do you know it?”

“Yes, I’m from [ ]…not too far from there, relatively speaking at least.”

He is silent for a few moments, before remembering his hospitality. “I look forward to getting to know you, my lady [ ]. Tell me, are you trained in combat?”

Your mind drifts to a few self-defense courses you took in college and that one semester you were on the fencing team in high school. “I am a …er…I know the basics. But I am eager to learn more, if you would have me, your highness.” You blush slightly, not having intended the double meaning.

He nods, pleased by your interest. “Indeed. I shall look into it and perhaps, if all goes well I shall have you under my tutelage.”

“Thank you, your highness,” you bow your head. “I look forward to receiving your…I mean…to being under …I er…” 

Thor lets out a hearty chuckle as the guardian stifles her own. “I look forward to guiding you, my lady.” His gaze fixes yours and he seems to have caught a bit of your flush. 

You depart from his tent, satisfied with your first meeting. He was kind and generous, and you connected well. You imagine that a friendship might eventually grow between you…at the very least.

You steel yourself for what was coming next.

The cool air of Loki’s tent hits you the minute you step inside. It’s like entering an icy cave, so different from the comfort of the place you’d just departed. You curtsy immediately, bowing your head for several seconds, not daring to meet his gaze again. He clears his throat.

“As suitable as that position is for you, my little mayfly, were you not intending to delight me with the pleasure of conversation today?” 

You feel heat rising in your cheeks. Did he just…suggest that you should submit to him? And the sarcasm in his voice…maybe you’d misjudged yourself, why would you be attracted to such disdain? You regain some of your composure.

“Quite.” You say, sitting down on the icy cold green bench, sparkling with a bit of what you now know to be magic, and crossing your arms. The guardian keeps a watchful eye on Loki. “So what is it you want to converse about, your highness.” There. That’ll teach him not to insult you.

Suddenly, his leather-clad body is right next to you, glancing your side. You feel his surprising warmth, up and down, as he presses his face a couple centimeters from yours with a sly grin and he reaches for your hand. You blink and glance over at the guardian, who suddenly appears hollow and lifeless behind the eyes like a marionette. “Now,” he purrs. “ I think this is a better seating arrangement for conversing, is it not?”

You swallow and jerk your hand away. You do not fully understand what this man is capable of, but you have some idea. So why is there a part of you that doesn’t mind him practically crushing his forehead into yours?

As if he could hear your thoughts, he shifts slightly away as he takes in your figure again, his piercing eyes resting for several seconds on your chest. You cross your arms over what you imagine he must be so transfixed by and clear your throat. Before you can even register that he’s moved, he groans and thrusts his hand towards you, placing his palm on your forehead and closing his eyes, inhaling deeply. You’re too stunned to shift, still not used to this whole magic thing.

You’re seeing. Visions? Memories. Maybe dreams too. You’re not controlling it. You think he is. It feels like he’s tossing your thoughts around like a bunch of file folders, trying to find just one. Just one. Something to prove it, you think you hear him say. What is it he’s looking for?

“You don’t believe in me,” he gasps, releasing your forehead and snapping his eyes back open.

Both your mouth and arms drop. “Wh-what?” 

“You don’t believe any of this is real. You think we are all just stories and you don’t believe in my power. Well, my dear,” his hand clasps for your throat and traces down, hovering just above your heart. “We’re going to have to correct that, won’t we?”

You push back, eye wide in disbelief, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. What the heck had he done to you? Do you scream for help? No…You’re too shocked…and too intrigued.

“What is this energy in you, my little mayfly?” he says softly, leaning back in, eyebrows raised. “Has someone sent you to us…hm? There’s something there and I fully intend to figure out what it is.”

There it is. You gain your composure and meet his burning, twitching eyes. “You brought me here, remember? I was sent by no one and I pose no threat to your kingdom,” you say, barely over a whisper.

Loki stares back at you for a minute, baffled. The tension drops from his face and his eyes go just a little shiny.

But in an instant, he’s on the other side of the room, on his own seat and the guardian sniffs, casting a hard look in Loki’s direction.

“You may go.” He turns his back to you. 

You dash out.

\--

“So…Loki…he just…read your thoughts? First meeting, right off the bat?” Brigit’s arms are crossed, disbelief loosening her lips.

“That’s what he did,” you chuckle weakly, trying to keep it light. “He stuck his hand on my head and did some kind of telepathic voodoo on me.”

“I told you…weird one, Loki,” she shakes her head. “Did he even catch your name?”

“You know…I’m not sure he did?” 

_Lady [ ],_ you imagine you hear, echoing somewhere deep inside your mind. You feel his eyes upon you from across the room and you lift yours to meet them. Loki grins wickedly and raises his goblet in your direction.

“I know he did not just do it again. From all the way over there?“

Brigit nods, “He is capable of it, aye."

You groan.

The rest of the feast flies by – there is dancing and drinking and dancing and chatter and a bit more dancing and…phew. You eventually decide to sneak out for some air.

You feel a cool breeze coming from an archway behind you and decide to explore. Thank the alien gods, it’s a door leading to a balcony that hangs over a maze-like and apparently endless labyrinth garden.

You rest your elbows on the stone railing and exhale deeply. _What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? _

If it’s nightfall here…is it night back home? If so, you know your friends are probably cussing you out right now for dipping out on them without making the dip. Not to mention taking your parts in all of your best karaoke songs.

“Enjoying the view, my lady,” a distinctive voice, deep and rich yet lilting startles you.

You spin around.

“Eira! I, yes, just needed a little air,” you lean against the railing, surprised to see the tiny attendant from earlier. Maybe she had a bit of a throat?

“Aye and you have found it. Best spot in the palace for it, as a matter of fact,” Eira slides up next to you, leaning in a bit closer than you’d expect.

“Are you…alright, my dear,” she searches your eyes. 

“Fine, um, I mean, maybe a little homesick and…well. Still adjusting to all of this.”

“Hm,” she grins, long and wide. “And the princes…they were aimable I hope?”

“Oh yes! Very much so- well…at least one of them was,” you chuckle.

“Let me guess,” Eira’s eyes grow a bit wider and a flash of something in them makes her appear almost child-like for a moment. “That…big oafish one. He’s not to your liking is he? Not all he’s cracked up to be?”

“Oh no! Actually, Thor was quite gracious, he even offered to train me! It’s the other dude that was less so actually,” you draw back a bit as Eira’s playfulness seemed to shift to something else.

“’The other dude’ You refer to the extraordinarily talented, inimitable, exceedingly handsome Prince Loki Laufeyson of Asgard as…’the other dude’?” she is almost fuming suddenly.

You laugh. “Eira, my guy, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a bit of a thing for this…Prince Loki Lava…what you say?”

“Laufeyson!” she practically growls. “of ASGARD!”

“Laufey- yeah,” you lose it, hunching over the rails. “No, no, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. I mean no disrespect to your culture and people here. It’s just…this is all so strange. I think I’m losing it a bit,” you find yourself saying exactly what’s on your mind. Funny. You’re usually only this free with your closest friends.

“You are forgiven, my dear,” her kind smile returns. “I know this is a lot for you to handle.” You see another shift in her eyes. “So…you like Thor then do you, my lady?”

“Well, yeah, he seems nice,” you smile.

“I see,” Eira inches closer and that child-like twinkle re-appears in her eyes. “Do...explore that, will you? You never know where it might lead.” 

“I guess, I mean…we’ll see.”

“Now, I pray you return to your chambers for bed. I will, ah, run ahead and prepare your bath,” she curtsies and scuttles away.

\--

When you return to your chambers, Eira is startled by your appearance. 

“My lady! Back so soon? I wasn’t expecting you for another few hours,” she rushes to her feet.

“But we just talked? On the balcony, didn’t we?”

Eira stares in disbelief, then a series of expressions run across her face. “Aye! Aye, we did, and well, you know, it’s been such a long day, I must’ve dozed off and forgotten all about it,” she laughs. “I’ll prepare your bath now,” she gives you a knowing look before rushing off.

You plop down on the bed, fall onto your back, and sigh, a tiny smile spreading across your lips.


	4. Chapter 4

You are awaken before the sun rises and prepared for the first of the three Tasks.

Each Task, designed to provide the lady with an opportunity to display her abilities in body, mind, and spirit, would be completed before the princes. And, upon completion of each of the first two Tasks, five would be eliminated and free to return to their homes. Upon completion of the third Task, each prince will select his intended and the courtship will formally begin. 

You still aren’t sure about the logistics of actually courting a fucking alien prince, but, like, they’d probably cut you by the second round at the latest so you figure, _Might as well have a bit of fun before I have to go back to the realm of spreadsheets and Netflix binges_. 

Then Eira informs you that the first challenge, the Task of Arrows, involves using your instincts to identify and shoot an enchanted deer among regular deer with a single golden arrow. 

You gasp. 

“So we have to kill the animal?”

“Aye, my lady,” Eira pats your shoulder. “Have you much experience with the hunt, then?”

You shake your head vigorously. “I would rather not.” 

“Oh, my lady,” Eira sighs, “I remember that you don’t take flesh. Do not worry, the creatures are not truly harmed by the golden arrows. In fact, they are restored after the Task and granted immortality in return for their participation.”

“But they will still die. They will still feel pain. I would rather not harm them at all. Do I need to do this Task?” you panic.

Eira pats your shoulder, “Aye, my lady. But remember, there are no wrong ways to complete a Task. The princes will observe and consider any choice you make, even the choice not to participate,” she inclines her head towards you. 

You sigh, feeling a bit relieved. But from what you know of the people of this planet so far, conscientious objection would not be something they’d admire.

\--

“Morning, love!” Brigit rushes up to you in the Great Hall, where all the ladies are waiting for their turns at the Task. “Did you sleep well last night? Seems you slipped off.”

“Yes, just needed a little rest after all the opening festivities.” 

“It’s a lot isn’t it,” Brigit grins. “To be honest, I snuck out early too and did a few vocal exercises before bed. There are only so many waltzes you can do before they all start feeling exactly the same.” 

“Did you at least get to talk to Thor more?”

“Nay, he was preoccupied most of the evening. But he did raise his stein my way more than a few times…as he had more than a few,” Brigit giggles and you join her. 

“The man can drink.”

“So, are you ready for the task? What’s wrong?” Brigit notices how quickly your face drops.

“I just…I don’t know about this whole killing thing. Where I am from, some of us make the choice not to cause harm to any living creatures, even those that are commonly killed and consumed for food." 

“Aye…is this also why you do not take flesh?” she asks. You nod.

“Tis a noble thing, I think,” Brigit nods in return. “I don’t know anyone here in Asgard who practices such but perhaps the princes will understand. You are Midgardian after all.”

“Sure…maybe,” you smile weakly. “We’ll see.”

\--

As with the introductions, each of the ladies takes their turn on the task in an order determined by their names drawn from the flaming urn. The first two return in high spirits, recounting to the others how they identified the right deer to shoot. 

“I knew right away because it looked straight at me. None of the others did,” a dark-haired lady puffs her chest out.

“There was just something about its coat,” the tall, red-haired girl recounted to a group of three other ladies. “It was perfect. Too perfect,” she crossed her arms and lifted her chin with pride as the others chatter excitedly about their upcoming turns. 

Then you’re called. Third. 

You gulp. 

“You got this, [ ],” Brigit raises both her fists as you’re whisked away by a pair of attendants and transported to what looks like a woodland clearing.

A crier announces your arrival to the royal family, who is seated in a row of thrones on the edge of the clearing.

“Good day, my lady [ ],” Thor calls out. His mother, the lovely Queen Frigga, tilts her head in your direction and smiles warmly.

“Good day, your highness. Your Majesty,” you curtsy.

Loki, the icy fucker, just stares into the distance, ignoring you completely.

The crier continues by explaining the rules of the task, repeating what Eira had recounted to you that morning. You sweat nervously as an attendant prepares you with protective forearm and finger gear and hands you the ornate white bow and golden arrow. You get the basic grasp you thankfully learned that one summer at camp when you were twelve but continue to mull around in your head about whether or not you’ll actually do it.

A shell-horn sounds the beginning of the Task and you’re off.

_I can’t do this_. _Shoot a living creature? I can’t._

You wander into the woods. The forest is so lush and green and full of life that it practically makes you cry. 

_Okay, this is it. All I have to do is-_

You turn around and see a baby deer nibbling at the ground. The sight is so peaceful that you feel like even your breath is disrupting it. 

The deer lifts its gorgeous large watery eyes to you, shivering a little before darting off.

_Fuck, this is gonna be even harder than I thought. They got these little dudes out here looking like Bambi._

You turn again and find about 15 more deer that are just as smol and soft and precious as the first one.

_How did they do this? They all look exactly the same._

That’s when you notice it. One of the deer’s eyes. A brilliant, piercing emerald green instead of the soft and rich brown of all the others.

That particular deer lifts its head defiantly and stares directly at you. It almost seems to be taunting you. In fact, it kinda reminds you of that annoying asshole, Prince Loki, blah-blah Whatever-son.

Then it does it. You don’t believe it at first. But then it does it again.

It actually lifts one of its hoofs, which is somehow segmented like a human hand, off the ground.

It lifts that hoof and gives you the finger. 

You gasp. Then throw up your hands in disbelief. Then growl. 

_Well…Eira did say they come back to life. Maybe I can do this._

You prepare your bow and, holding the deer’s gaze, begin to take aim. The deer puts both middle fingers up now, balancing on its hind legs as it shifts its hoofs into metal horns.

_Oh you wanna play like that, motherfucker? I’ve got a special little horn for you right here._

You shoot – and hit it on your first go!

But the arrow goes right through it and into the ground with a _thwooooong_.

The deer actually fucking dances around on its hind legs and appears to be cackling with its mouth open. 

_What. The. Actual. _

_FUCK._

You aim and shoot again. Perfect hit. Except not. It lands right next to the previous arrow. The deer continues to cackle.

Again. This time it appears to hit the deer. It starts doing a dramatic “oh I’m dying” wobble like an old cartoon character before actually plucking the fucking arrow right out of its hind leg and throwing it to the ground, laughing! 

Again. The deer catches it with its hoof-hand, holds it in its mouth like a rose and pretends to tango, wiggling its eyebrows at you. It actually makes you blush a little.

Again. The deer does a Matrix backbend and the arrow flies right over it.

AGAIN. The deer just lies down and starts eating, ignoring you completely. 

“Fuck. YOU. DEER!” You scream.

And suddenly you’re back at the edge of the clearing with the royal family. Frigga looks impressed. Loki still stares in the distance. And Thor.

Thor’s cheeks are flushed and he’s giving you the Look.

That Look.

“My lady [ ]. Your persistence is most honorable and noble. Even though you did not strike the creature, I applaud your efforts here today.” Thor lifts his hands and applauds loudly, joined by his mother and even Loki, who manages about two and a half slow and weak claps. 

“And perhaps, my lady, if you will have me…I can train you in long bow as well…one day.”

“Yes, your highness, I look forward to it,” you curtsy deeply, smiling to yourself. 

_What the hell just happened? _

\--

“Well?” Brigit rushes up to you. “How was it?”

“Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” you search for words to describe what you’d just experienced. The only one you manage is:

“Weird. Like super weird. The deer was like…it was weird.”

“Did you have to shoot it, dear [ ],” Brigit clasps your arm.

“That’s the thing. I did end up trying. But it just wouldn’t get shot! And Thor well…Thor was, like, impressed. Really impressed.”

Brigit smiles weakly for a minute and glances down. “I’m sure he was.”

You catch her eyes. “Look, Brigit. I know you like Thor. And it seems like, as far as I can tell in the time that I’ve been here, it seems like you and he have something you can build on. So, wildly sexy and insanely charming though he may be, I see him as a friend and only a friend." 

“[ ], you do not have to make any promises,” Brigit starts.

“But I will. Thor is all yours,” you whisper, glancing around before winking at her. “I’d totally put money on that.”

Brigit laughs and swats your arm. “Aye, I hope so,” she says softly. “I really do.”


	5. Chapter 5

That evening, when you ask what Asgardians do to unwind, Eira shows you to one of the palace guest reading rooms, which is more like an actual whole library. Apparently there are books that are enchanted to translate into billions of galactic languages, including all of the Earth Englishes.

You grab something that looks like a book of parables and settle in with a cup of actually-golden spiced tea. 

About thirty minutes into getting lost in some weird tale about a mad titian trying to eradicate half of the universe by collecting magical marbles or something, you’re interrupted by the sound of boots clacking on the floor.

“I see our Midgardian lady likes to take her leisure with the written word,” Loki grins. “I too find it helps me unwind, especially after a particularly…trying ordeal.”

“I don’t know what ordeal you’re talking about, your highness,” you snort. “Everything actually turned out awesome for me today so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my book,” you look down.

Loki smirks. “Then I presume you managed to slay the beast and win the undying admiration of my family?”

“Well, no. But it’s not about that. There’s no wrong way to face a Task,” you lift your chin, remembering Eira’s words.

Loki takes a seat directly across from the chaise lounge where you’re reclining, kicking his boots up on the table and placing his hands behind his head. He raises his eyebrows in your direction.

“Oh? Is that your line of thinking, little mayfly? Then you must not harbor much respect for the rules.”

You cough. That’s not what you meant. “No, it just means…you don’t always have to win the thing. At the end of the day it’s about how you approach the challenge.”

Loki meets your eyes and almost appears to feel…connection. Recognition. “I would say the same.”

There it is again. That tinge of attraction. There are songs and movies and family stories and long posts online that all tell you why it would be a very, very, very bad idea to do anything other than chuck these feelings to the bottom of this alien planet’s ocean and never mention them again.

But you don’t fucking want to.

Loki continues to stare at you. He’s enjoying this way too much for it just to be some game for him.

But maybe he’s like really, _really_ into games.

“Loki. Just leave me alone right now. I need to rest before the next Task.”

Surprisingly, he listens. “Very well, my pet. Rest up. And I do hope that we will continue our discourse another time,” he bows and vanishes in swirls of green light.

You try and get back into your book for several minutes, but your mind keeps wandering to that open and inviting look in Loki’s eyes.

_Fuck_.


	6. Chapter 6

The second day begins much like the first. Once again, all of the ladies are assembled in the Great Hall as they await preparations for the second challenge: The Task of Shadows.

For this Task, each lady would be led to the garden where they will need to work their way through a labyrinth. Except this was no ordinary labyrinth. It was enchanted to invoke visions and images that strike deep into the lady’s mind and memories. The lady always has the ability to leave the labyrinth should the images cause an excess of distress and would be carefully examined by a court healer upon completion and treated as needed.

You feel relieved that Asgardians seem to have a very mindful approach to consent and risk exposure. But you are still nervous.

“What sorts of things do you think we’ll see in there, Brigit?” Both of you sip a strange, smoky purple beverage which had been given to each lady in preparation. 

“Not my first singing teacher I hope!” Brigit laughs. “She was dreadful! I’ll just run right out of the maze if she comes up.”

You sip and nod. “I know what you mean. I had a ballet teacher at university that would have me hitting that panic button immediately. Hey, do you know if anything’s fair game…even people we just met?” you glance around the room, noting Loki speaking with the court healer who would do the examinations. While you turn your eyes away from him immediately, you think you sense his on you more than once.

Brigit shrugs, “It’s anyone’s guess!” 

The drawings begin. Brigit is sixth this time.

She comes back looking unscathed. “Aye, that was a delight! I felt so powerful, moving around in my memories like that. I did see me da though…he passed on last year and I miss him loads,” she grows quiet. “But mostly, it was actually quite fun.” 

“Sorry about your dad, Brigit,” you embrace her for a moment. “But glad it went well.” 

Brigit is rushed over to the court healer just as you’re called.

Seventh.

“Lucky number seven,” you do a little dance and wave to Brigit as you’re collected and brought to the start of the labyrinth.

The royal family greets you. Even Loki inclines his head in your direction. This time they are all perched in a sky box-type setting where they can see the whole maze. 

“Ah, it is lady Brigit’s friend!” Thor is cheerful and you smile to yourself. If you’re not mistaken, you see a hint of flush in those round cheeks that you do not believe yourself to be the cause of.

“Yes it is!”

“Well, best of luck to you, my lady,” Thor pumps his fists.

You take a deep breath and wander in.

The maze, like the forest from yesterday’s task, is lush and green. As soon as you walk in there, it feels much deeper and larger and even a bit cooler than it had from the outside. Even though it appears like hedges to your eyes, it’s like walking into a cave. 

You shuffle forward, prepared for anything. You believe you hear some birds chirping in the distance, then a few more nearby. You walk in to the left, then to the right, then left. 

_So far, so good. It’s pretty straightforward._

Then you turn around. 

A pit has formed at your feet immediately behind you. You gasp but, remembering that the pit itself is an illusion, you calmly inch away from it. It disappears.

Then another pit appears, this time inviting you to jump in. You consider it for several seconds, then figure, _why not_?

As soon as you jump, you find yourself in a cozy, warm bed. Actually, when you look around, you’re in a crib. You’re a baby! You’re a fucking baby! Someone comes to pick you up and play with you. You giggle and smile! 

But something feels strange. This is not right. You want to leave. But how?

You actually consider…flying? The thought comes to you naturally. So you raise your arms and do it.

As soon as you reach the clouds, you find yourself back in school. You’re a kid now! You run around, play with your friends, and you gradually become an adult.

Then you’re at dance class, doing a combination. You decide to change it. Everyone follows you!

Suddenly, a large snake appears. It fills up the entire space you’re in. You try to walk but it envelopes you.

Without question, without fail you simply relax your body. Let everything go.

It disappears and you see the maze again, light glowing from the exit. 

You’re greeted by loud cheers and whooping from Thor, a polite smile from Frigga, and a very, very strange look from Loki.


	7. Chapter 7

Once again in the evening, you return to the reading room. You find the book of parables where you left it, this time reading about a mad ruler who stokes prejudice against all he claims are foreign to his realm and puts children in cages. You shudder to your core at the thought. 

Prince Loki appears within minutes. He’s different tonight. Softer, almost comely. When you look closely at his eyes as he bows to greets you, you notice that they’re almost black.

“My dear lady [ ],” his head rises and he holds your gaze. “I have come to check on your condition following the Task today. How are you feeling?” 

You raise your eyebrows. Loki…checking in on you? “I’m doing quite well, actually. I don’t know what any of it means but somehow it relaxed me.” 

Loki nods, “The Task of Shadows is based on an ancient healing practice we do here…a practice that I must confess, has helped me greatly in the past.” 

You put your book down as Loki walks towards you. “Oh?” 

“Shadow-hunting. You see, I appear to be like the others here in Asgard. They are Aesir and Vanir. But I am, in fact, something else entirely. I am Jotun. I did not know this until my late father – well, my late adopted father, told me. It took some time to adjust.”

“What is Jotun?” 

“We are ice giants. My natural appearance is actually quite different. I wear a kind of masking spell to live amongst the Asgardians.”

“Isn’t that hard for you? To have to pretend to be something you’re not all the time?” You knit your brow, thinking of more than a few parallels back on Midgard.

“Aye. But Asgard is my home. It’s all I know. So, while I am here, I accept the inconvenience of having to alter my appearance to fit in. If I want to return to Jotunheim one day, perhaps I will. But right now I choose to be here.” 

“So this shadow hunting is a kind of therapy on your planet,” Loki nods again. “That’s great Loki. I’m glad it was helpful for you.” 

Loki hums. “As am I.”

“You’re still kind of a dick though. Sorry, had to say it.”

Loki smiles. “I can be a bit of a dick.”

“So that’s just a lifelong thing then?” you hug your knees into your chin. “Making trouble wherever you go.” 

“I see,” his grin is long and wide. “My reputation precedes me. As the god of mischief I-“ 

“_A_ god of mischief” 

“I beg your pardon,” Loki glares in your direction. You stand and step towards him. 

“_A_ god of mischief. As in one. Of multiple.” 

“I assure you there is _only_ one,” Loki gets a snake-like tension in his head, neck, and shoulders, holding your gaze and staring you down. 

“No. You are one. Of many, in fact. You’re not the only one, Loki. At least not that we know on Midgard.” 

Loki continues his serpentine stare for several seconds before breaking the silence. “Then who else, might I ask, lays claim upon my title?” 

You name that familiar trickster of childhood stories, the one your closest guardian would paint brilliant bedtime pictures of every night that had you one of the rare children who rushed off to brush their teeth and put on their pajamas instantly when called to do so.

“Aye, but this [ ]. What is their power?”

“Their wit matches yours. Exceeds it even,” you raise your eyebrows. 

“Is that so? Then, my dear lady, you must recount for me their most cunning deception.” 

You turn around and a brilliant idea hits you. Ohhh. You gotta try this.

You share your tale, meeting his eyes and crossing your arms at its finish. Loki is silent for several seconds. 

“That is good. That is- I will admit. But. BUT.”

You break into a smile, then into a fit of giggles.

“What is so funny?” 

“That story I just told you. That was me. I did that.” 

“Yo- you?” Loki’s mouth drops.

You nod, falling deeper into your giggle ditch.

“So you admit I’m good.” 

“No. NO! You are no match for the great god of mis-“

“Oh but I think I might be.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

You stop laughing and meet his eyes. “I’ll prove it.”

Green eyes suddenly go dark, “Alas, my sweet pet…you already have.” 

You blink and shake your head. But within moments you find yourself drawing closer to the sorcerer. “What do you mean?” 

“In every age and every situation there are folk like me. The ones who cause trouble, ruffle feathers, make a mess, play too much. You know this. You’ve seen it in your realm.”

Your mind drifts to scores of social media comments that exist merely to piss others off. Then to a fandom you adore being a part of that has no shortage of those who “play too much”- much to your amusement, you have to admit. You press your lips together and sigh.

“And your point, Loki?”

“We are the inevitable result of any and all attempts at forming Order. Try as you might to fight it, darling, you’ll never be rid of us. In fact, regard that pretty little countenance of yours in the mirror. You might find that there are…allegiances there you wouldn’t dare admit to your precious friends and family back on Midgard…nor to my big-hearted buffoon of a brother. And you know what, my pet?” he crosses behind you, a strike of blue forming around the corner of his mouth, icy breath raising the hairs behind your neck.

“I have the sneakiest suspicion that you have absolutely no desire to liberate yourself from their grasp.” 

“You admire us. Admit it, pet. Our gall and our guile make you smirk with delight.” His fingers trace your temple. “I see it. You almost…enjoy it. But in you, my dear, it’s particularly subtle. It’s unexpected. It’s intoxicating.”

“Loki,” you mumble. He wasn’t wrong. Not by a long shot. 

His voice drops to a whisper. “I would never. Ever. Make you deny a single atom of your being. I would have you – all of you.” 

He stands firmly behind you, running his fingers up and down your arms. “You know, my pet. My plan was to pair you off with Thor. Then I could capture the throne of Asgard once and for all without the interference of my idiot brother. But now I see. I saw it in your Shadows. Most just follow the memories. But you changed all of them. Every last one. You are not particularly suited for Thor, are you my dear?”

He leans in close again, his breath hot on your ear. “No. You are much more suited for someone of a more…chaotic…disposition.”

You worm away, though approximately 77% of you does not want him to stop so help you God.

Then suddenly you remember.

This is like a totally serious thing on this planet.

These guys are out here looking for _wives_. For _queens_.

You take a few breaths. 

Was Loki…was he actually considering you?

You weren’t eliminated after the first two tasks as you’d expected. Even then you thought maybe the Asgardians were just in the mood for a little more intercultural exchange. But Loki coming to you like this in the night, his eyes now wide and wild, his breath growing heavier as he spins you around, scoops you up in his arms and kisses you.


	8. Chapter 8

You wake up in a daze. The attendant you now know is _actually _Eira rushes into your room with breakfast as two other attendants prepare you for briefing on the third challenge: The Task of Mirrors.

After some…things went down in the reading room, Loki confessed a lot to you last night. Like – and this one is kind of a biggie – he’s a motherfucking SHAPESHIFTER. You gave him a good smack for the deer prank (which he seemed a little too pleased about…on second thought…you make note of that for later) and practically strangle him for pretending to be your attendant. But when he reveals the reasons behind his plot, his burning desire for the throne and his disposition towards chaos, the very same chaos that leads you to do all those little things just a bit differently, you actually start to admire him. 

_I mean, he’s not entirely wrong_, you think. _What’s life without a little disruption?_

The Task of Mirrors is, on its surface, Asgard's Got Talent. But there's a bit of a twist. Each of the five remaining ladies will perform a work of their choice in a room where they will be entirely surrounded by enchanted mirrors. Though, of course, the royal family as well as several courtiers will be watching, the idea is that you will be tested not to be distracted by the distorted reflections, to maintain your focus for the duration of your performance. 

You choose one of the first routines you learned when you started studying flamenco. A sensual, swaying _tangos _choreography. 

For this Task, the rules were slightly different. For one, there would be a week before the Task itself to allow for preparations and rehearsals. 

And, during this time, your heart sank as you learned, there was to be strictly no interaction between the ladies and any male. 

Not attendants. Not other performers. And certainly not the princes themselves.

After your disappointment that there would be no more little dalliances with Loki in the reading room for a while dissipated, you actually looked forward to a little space as well as introducing a royal alien court to one of your favorite Midgardian performance arts.

The night before the Task, you met with your group for a full dress rehearsal. You have to give it to the Asgardian seamstresses– they were exceedingly talented. You’d given them a few sketches of the types of dresses you’d worn for other shows and thrown in a few twists…and they’d truly outdone themselves. 

By now, you’d broken in the emerald green pair of flamenco shoes that a pair of dwarf brothers had lovingly crafted to match the dress (each lady would perform in costumes and jewelry in the chosen color of their intended – reds for Thor and greens for Loki) and rehearsed with a lyre player, singer, and drummer that Brigit introduced you to for several hours each day that week. The musicians and singer, Ingrit, had been studying the vocals on the cassette tape on the battery-operated Walkman you had brought through the Bifrost (80s tech was best to work in deep space apparently) and, you admit, managed to perform the piece will all of the soul and solemnity of the original artists. 

You arrived in the studio before the rest of the group to warm up and focus a little. Clicking on your cassette, you begin to sway to the music, curling and angling your body in soft, round shapes. Pausing, breathing, taking in every verse that the singer sings. Your body becoming one with the song. _Ayyyyyy…._

You turn and gasp. Loki is there. Well…Lady Loki, wearing a full green skirt that matches your own and green suede shoes with nails on the bottom, her hair even done up with green flowers like yours. She matches your movements to the t…mirroring every twist, turn, pause, breathe release. It’s exhilarating, dancing like this.

“How did you…were you…”

“Watching you, yes.” Loki whispers. “I couldn’t help myself.” 

“But where? How?”

“I have my ways.”

She continues to mirror your movements and you raise your eyebrows, “You’re quite good, actually.” You’re genuinely impressed. 

“I’ve had the best teacher,” she smirks. 

“You know…you’d better go before the musicians arrive. You will be in big, big trouble if they ca-“ 

You turn and she disappears just as Ingrit bursts into the room, chatting with the other two musicians. 

“This is going to be fantastic! Believe it or not, we Asgardians do not know anything quite like this. I think the princes will like it very much.”

You smile to yourself. “I think they will.” 

\--

Standing backstage, you pull back the curtain and take a peek at your audience for the third and final Task. The Great Hall is filled wall to wall with some of the most elegant and powerful-looking beings you’ve ever seen. You admit it – you’re nervous as hell. But the minute your eyes meet Prince Loki’s and he thumbs his chin and gives you that tiny little smirk your nerves disappear.

For about a minute. 

Brigit, clad in a wispy red floor-length gown and elaborate ruby headpiece, runs up to you and hugs you. 

“[ ]!!! I’ve missed you so much, love! You look incredible! Is this truly Midgardian fashion?”

“Hey!” you swat at her. “Yes, it is. We do have a few good looks you know.” 

Brigit laughs. “I only mean. Well. Because of your. You know. Limitations.” 

You laugh. “Never mind that. Look at you! So gorgeous. Girl, that headpiece!”

“As long as I don’t move my head too much I’m good.” 

You chat a little while longer before attendants haul you off towards your private dressing rooms, where you’d wait between acts, watching through a special TV-like enchantment. 

The older lady, Loki’s other choice, nods to you politely in the hall. Loki explained that there is an important ongoing alliance with a place called Vaneheim and that her presence this late in the Tasks will bode very well for Asgard’s near future. With a, ahem, “special dispensation” provided by Loki to break the rule of communication between ladies during the week of preparation, you met with her for tea and she explained a great deal about the history of the two realms and you offered some tips on her saga recitations for the Task. And Thor’s other two choices, a very fierce-looking dark-haired lady who is said to be descended from the great Valkyrie warriors and the red-haired young woman who you learn is from a tiny village on the outskirts of Asgard, had arrangements for weaponry and grain with the royal family on the basis of their participation in the final Task. Thus no one is bitter about the princes’ decisions being practically made at this point. 

The Valkyrie lady performs first, displaying her skill in combat by riding an actual Pegasus into the Hall to defeat an ice giant before the crowd (Loki later makes an adorable pouty face when you gush about her moves). Then, the young red-haired lady, clad in red robes with her long hair tied up in a very high point, is on with a performance that is kind of a combination of drumming and martial arts. She does a _lot _of backflips. You make a note to yourself to ask her for some tips on keeping your core strength up later. 

Then Brigit.

“Wish me all the graces of the norns,” she squeezes your hand. 

“I already have. You got this, sis,” you wink. 

\--

“I’ll be right here when it’s over. Please find me immediately, my lady,” the court healer tells you as the applause rises and Brigit takes her bows. 

The crier announces your name and intended and you walk out and take your place. The minute you step out on the stage, instead of the quiet murmur and hush of an audience that you’re accustomed to from your years of performing, you find the eerie quiet of an empty studio. 

Not just any studio. One that’s underground, late at night.

You know it’s a trick of the mind, but it throws you for a second.

The music begins. You work through the first part of the choreography, nailing the end in tempo. So far, so good. It’s a little awkward to see so many reflections of yourself but nothing frightening. 

As you begin the second part, the voice of the singer seems to melt and slow. Suddenly, you see something else in the mirrors. First fear, then panic, then anger.

Voices begin to call out at you. 

“You will never be enough!” 

“You will never have enough!” 

“Why would Loki choose you? You ordinary boring little mortal!” 

“Be more like them! Then you will be happy.” 

“Don’t even try anymore. You’re just going to fail.”

Tears stream down your eyes, smudging your makeup. You gasp for breath.

Then you remember the second Task. The snake. Its grip. And how you just. 

You release everything. 

Relax your muscles.

Find the music again.

Find freedom again. 

And dance on.

And on. 

And on.

Right. To. The.

END.

The music stops, the mirrors drop away, and thunderous applause fills the Great Hall. Thor whoops and cheers. Queen Frigga beams and whispers something to Loki, who cracks the largest and most open smile you’ve seen on him yet.


	9. Chapter 9

That evening, in the reading room, you meet the dark prince again.

“How did your mother figure it out?”

“She knows me better than anyone. She said it was quite obvious what I – well, the other me - had done from the beginning.” 

“So this isn’t my reality I’m in right now. This is actually some sort of alternative universe that this other you brought me into?”

“Yes, my dear.” 

“And he brought me to you.” 

Loki smiles. “Even in whatever state I was in that other universe, I knew exactly what I needed. And I venture to say what you needed as well.” 

You embrace. 

“Loki,” you whisper. 

He makes a low sound. 

“You know what I think?”

He nudges your cheek with his nose. “What, my pet?”

“I think Loki Laufeyson. That guy. I think he has a poetic soul.”

“Hmf. So now you find my mischief-making poetic do you.”

“And a lot of unexpressed love in his heart.” Blech. You immediately regret the second part of that. Or so you tell yourself.

“You mortals with your _sentiment_. A couple of centuries’ lifespan would cure the lot of you of it.”

“And maybe a couple millenia would cure you space wizards of your detachment from it.”

“Beg pardon. My dear. Did you just call me a ‘space wizard’.” 

You nod. “I think it suits you.”

His smile is so wide it practically splits his face. And somehow, it’s a good look. Especially with his eyes twinkling the way they are, wisps of his green magic making them sparkle even more than usual. “But, my dear little mayfly…we have a bit of a problem. You see, to me you are the ‘space wizard’.” 

You snort. “I’m not the one with powers, Loki.”

“Are you not?” You feel his cool, quickening breath on your temple as he gazes down at you, lifting your face up and grazing your lower lip with his thumb. “Then how is it that you have enchanted me so?”

Loki pulls away and bends down on one knee and kisses your palm. And then your wrist. And then lifts his eyes briefly to meet yours before kissing the crook of your elbow. “Enlighten me, darling, I am ever your eager pupil.” 

“Oh ho, I know! Well it’s ahh-“ you start but your breath escapes you in a burst and you’re scarcely able to form words as his tongue grazes the stretch of skin between your thumb and index finger. Yes, that trivial stretch of your hand which you never in a million years imagined could be such a source of…oh my… 

Your eyes roll back into your head and you almost black out for a minute. That title. Silver tongued. Noted. And. Respected.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours for a brief second as he opens his mouth and begins to suckle on each finger, planting tiny kisses on the tips of each one as he releases them. 

“I think I might fall in love with you, Loki,” you pant. “Yeah. I know. You’re not, like, into that. Or whatever. But hear me out.” He is silent, head tilted like a spaniel. 

“I know you’re like a…well, I’m not even quite sure what you are, to be honest. Like an ancient, incredibly hot, incredibly sensitive and deeply caring…spaceman.” 

“You’re stuck on the ‘spaceman’ bit. After all that?” 

You laugh. “After all that. YES.” 

Loki pulls you onto the chaise lounge beside him. He pushes a strand of hair out of your face, the backs of his fingers brushing your earlobe. 

“My darling little mayfly…before you so rudely interrupted me with your nonsense about space men…what I was trying to tell you is that YOU have captured my affection as well.”

He kisses you and you practically melt into the chaise lounge. 

“My venom,” he mumbles as his kisses trail down, and down, and down further still.

“My weakness,” he murmurs into your thigh.

“My wound,” his spider hands continue to crawl up, up, and there. Right there. _Oh yes_.


	10. Chapter 10

It is decided. Loki chooses you and Thor chooses Brigit. There is much feasting and celebration, even the return of all the ladies, most of whom appear to be pleased and even a pair who appear to have found a new beginning with one another.

Later that evening, the two of you talk quietly in your super sexy private spot: the reading room.

“Did you ever think you’d court a Midgardian lady?”

Loki shakes his head, “I must confess, I thought it would be my brother of the two of us.”

“He and Brigit are lovely together. And I’m glad you apologized for calling her a wench before.”

“But you see, my pet, ‘wench’ is not a derogatory term here on Asgard.”

“Loki.”

“Hm.”

“Stop lying.”

“Never.”

You lie together for a whole blissful hour and are quiet for half an hour more before you break the silence. 

“So Loki?" 

“Hm?” 

“If I’m staying here and you replaced me with the original me from this timeline…and doing so changed the timeline I was in…what’s it like for that other me there now?” 

Loki grins his wicked grin. 

** _Back on Midgard. _ **

It’s Friday. Fucking _finally_. And for once, it’s actually fucking _sunny_ outside and you’ve decided to leave early to get a head start on packing. You and your lovely husband were treating your best friend to an ultra-luxe birthday weekend away in wine country.

_Fuck it_, you think. Half of your staff was already away for a long summer weekend and you were ahead on planning for your next big thought leader talk anyway.

You pop into your eco-friendly luxury car and blast that tune that always gets you in the mood for the weekend. Nodding and smiling at your fellow office escapees, you make your way around a city square where a street musician is playing and a couple of dudes dressed as the famous and beloved superheroes Iron Man and Thor cheer him on and leave him a generous tip. 

You ask Siri to read out the group texts from a couple friends planning for the weekend. You reply to let them know they’ve got your private jet on lock for a 4 PM departure. You scroll through Twitter and like an insightful thread on a major new resource conservation effort going on in your country and post a pic to Insta showing off your latest summer look to your 2.5 million followers. 

Then you ask Siri to pull up the bookmark on the latest chapter of your current favorite fic and read it aloud. Smirking to yourself you sink into that feeling. Shoes off, feet up, exhale.

_You’re free._

You think just as an 18-wheeler swerves into your lane and hits you head on.

Outro Music:[ "Trophy" ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQsJXvC3RGM)by Bat for Lashes


End file.
